Lucan (The Lucan Trilogy Book 1)

by M. D. Archer

  “And Mom and Dad don’t know anything about this?”

  “No, and they won’t ever find out either, okay?”

  I nod. “So Grandma Tessa was Lucan as well,” I repeat, “but she’s dead.”

  Dana had told us this when she first got here. Mom had ignored her.

  “And you Became while you were in London with Grandma Tessa, and that is why you stayed, right?”

  Things are clicking into place. The only bit of the Mom-Dana drama I know is that it involves Grandma Tessa. When Mom and Dana were just kids, a drunk driver had wiped out both their parents in an awful accident and they had gone to live with Grandma Tessa in London. When Mom was twenty, she moved back here, but Dana stayed.

  Dana nods. “I needed Grandma Tessa to help me with Becoming Lucan.” Unexpectedly, her eyes moisten with tears. “I wanted to go with Kat, I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t… I still can’t. I don’t know if she’ll ever fully forgive me. She was already pregnant with you when she left with Mike.” Dana shakes her head.

  “Why did she leave?”

  Dana shrugs. “I think your mom and Grandma Tessa had a big fight over something. Imagine your relationship with your mom, but like, doubled—that is what they were like.”

  “Huh.” I nod. “So why did Grandma Tessa live in London in the first place? She’s from here originally, isn’t she?”

  “It was easier that way. For lone Lucans, the ones who are the only Lucan in their immediate family, it can be hard to keep the secret. The lack of aging—we do age, just much more slowly—can be too hard to cover up. And relationships can become too intense. Any grievances you have with family get intensified.”

  My relationship with Mom sure doesn’t need any more intensity.

  “Are lone Lucans common?”

  Dana shrugs. “Yes, fairly common. Lucans seem to be either lone, a random expression of the gene, or to follow a direct line of descendants, from parent to child. Or in some cases grandparent to grandchild. Our bloodline is unusual because we are kind of both. We have a definite lineage, but the Cursus gene usually skips many generations at a time. You and me, this close to each other, even this close to Grandma Tessa, is unusual.” Dana looks thoughtful. “The gene expression has become more frequent.”

  “So now it’s just us… until one of us has a Lucan baby,” I joke, but wince when Dana’s face falls. Whoops. She’s not desperate to be a mom, but I think she would like to have that option.

  “Sorry, uh—”

  “It’s fine,” Dana cuts me off, standing at the same time. She picks up a few sheets of A4 paper on her desk and beckons for me to follow her. A few feet down the corridor, we turn into a room, which, judging by the mix of people lounging on couches and sucking back coffee, is shared by professors and grad students.

  “Hey, Tim,” Dana acknowledges some guy as she passes him coming out of another smaller room, which turns out to be the stationery and photocopying room. Dana shuts the door before Tim can launch into whatever he was gathering the nerve to say. She enters a code into the photocopier, places her papers in the top feeder and then presses a button. After checking the paper whooshing out into the output tray, she pushes another couple of buttons. Tapping her foot as she sorts the output, stapling pieces together and creating a pile on the table, she looks pretty happy right now. Really, Dana? Literally pushing paper?

  “Hey, so… back to this Lucan guy you met. Who was he?” Dana says, picking up her photocopying stack and inclining her head at me to open the door.

  “I don’t know. We didn’t exchange names.”

  “What did he look like? Obviously he was hot, which is pretty much normal for being Lucan. Even those who aren’t conventionally handsome, or pretty, have a kind of presence, a thing about them.”

  I do my best to give her a description. Height, hair color, eye color. I may spend a little too much time describing his broad shoulders, his well-defined arms, the way his jeans hung low around his hips, and the way his hands looked so capable.

  Dana grins. “That sounds like Nikolai. He is junior Consillium Principali, which is why he used the term Cursus. And yes, he is very hot.”

  We get back to her office, and she lets me inside.

  “Junior council principal what?”

  She ignores mine, checking her watch instead. “Listen, I’m going to tell you everything, but I can’t right now. Dinner tonight?”

  “I guess.” I gather up my bag and get ready to leave. “Is there anything I need to know between now and then?”

  “Your emotions are volatile, so maybe just avoid any confrontations.” Dana eyes me warily. “Maybe don’t go home. Go straight to my place and wait for me there.”

  I nod.

  “And, Tamzin, don’t forget, being Lucan is a secret, okay? You can’t tell anyone. It’s like a rule. You can’t do anything that might risk exposure.”

  I don’t know what my face is doing, but Dana frowns.

  “You haven’t…? What have you done?”

  “Um… last night… a guy was getting robbed, and I stopped it.”

  Dana’s mouth is set in a line that tells me she is not impressed. “It’s important that you don’t risk exposure, okay?”

  “It’s not like I leapt over a building in front of a bunch of witnesses.”

  “Okay, no, you didn’t do something that obvious, but did you do something that would be hard to explain?”

  “Yeah, but that’s why I left before the police got there.”

  “But what if you hadn’t been able to? How would you have explained yourself?”

  “It would have been fine. I could have explained it.”

  “What if you couldn’t?”

  “But I could have,” I say, taking a more aggressive tone.

  This could go on for hours.

  “Tamzin. I get that you want to help people, and that’s great, but you have to be careful. It’s important.”

  “Sure, fine, whatever,” I say, but what is the point of having extra-special abilities if you don’t use them? How do I just let someone get hurt if I know I can stop it?

  “You can’t expose us. End of story.”

  “What happens if I do expose us?” I challenge.

  “You risk death by the Consillium.”

  Chapter 9

  Chinatown is a vibrant cacophony of clattering cutlery, noisy conversation, and pungent as well as aromatic food smells. Il Mee, the Korean restaurant on Bright Street that Dana picked for dinner, is no different.

  Dana opens a bottle of wine and pours me a large glass. Her long hair is parted in the middle, loose around her shoulders, with a slight kink from the braid she had earlier. She came straight from work, but she’s changed her shirt to a cropped metallic tank. If Mom saw her, she would say she is far too old to be wearing that, but Mom is judgmental, and Dana doesn’t look anything close to her actual age. I’m wearing a white tank that I borrowed from Dana, paired with a high-waisted pencil skirt—also courtesy of Dana’s wardrobe, which I wouldn’t have squeezed into last week.

  “I’m not advocating binge drinking, but for now, until you get a handle on your senses, alcohol is useful to dampen everything that is going on.”

  I pull my head out of my hands to accept the glass. “Why does the sensory overload thing come and go like this?” I say, taking a long pull of wine.

  “After the full moon, it will calm down… Hey, whoa… I don’t want to have to carry you home tonight.”

  I put the glass down. “So am I drinking or not drinking?”

  “You are drinking, but not to excess, okay? Because I’m going to introduce you to someone tonight, and I want you to make a good impression.”

  “Who is it? Is it something to do with the Consillium?”

  “You’ll find out soon. I’m taking you somewhere after dinner.”

  “Fine, okay, but in the meantime, will you keep telling me stuff about being Lucan?”

  “Of course.” Dana holds up her hand as a tir
ed-looking waitress arrives at our table. She places a jug of water on the table and then waits expectantly with her notepad. I let Dana order for both of us while I glug back one, two, three small cups of water.

  “The reason you are so thirsty is that you are making more blood,” Dana says once the waitress has gone, “which you need for all the changes you are going through, building muscles, increased metabolism, and healing abilities—our bodies heal at a much, much faster rate than normal humans.”

  “So, does that mean we are like… immortal?” My voice drops to a whisper.

  “Not quite. We can be killed. Silver bullets should do the job—especially one in the heart or the brain. Any real silver placed directly on your skin will be intensely unpleasant.”

  “Silver, huh?”

  When I see the warning in Dana’s eyes, I don’t point out the werewolf comparison.

  “What about a normal bullet?”

  “Probably not, no, but any gross trauma to our bodies that is too great to heal will kill us, just like a human, it’s just the level of trauma required is much, much higher.”

  I grin. “This is pretty cool.”

  “And don’t forget about telepathy,” Dana says in my head. She gives me an encouraging nod. “Give it a try.”

  “I don’t know how it works,” I say, just as I realize that I do. Somehow. “Cool,” I add.

  “It’s instinctive, but it does take a bit of practice. Being related, it’s easier for us, but in general, if you are further away, if you aren’t in eye contact, and if there are more people around, it would be harder. Each person is like another signal that can confuse the ones you are trying to send or receive.”

  “Huh,” I say aloud. “I had a telepathic conversation with Nikolai in a lecture hall, and we weren’t looking at each other for some of it.”

  “How many people were there?”

  “Hmm… a few hundred?”

  Dana’s eyes widen. “That’s kind of incredible, Tam. New Lucans can’t normally do that.”

  “Really?” I say, pleased with myself. Finally, I’m good at something.

  The waitress appears at our table to deposit some condiments and replace our water jug, then retreats to the kitchen.

  “And these telepathic conversations can only take place between Lucans, but during the full moon, most Lucans can access non-Lucan thoughts,” Dana says.

  My eyes light up. “Awesome!”

  Dana smiles. “You say that now, but… it’s actually not.” She pushes a stray hair off her face as she takes a sip of wine. “Sometimes it is handy, for sure, but for the most part, you don’t want to know what people are thinking about. Trust me. It’s one of the reasons why some Lucans can’t be around their families, and why they go to remote areas for the full moon. To hear what people are thinking? What they truly think of you?” Dana shakes her head.

  Okay, sure, but still.

  “Oh, and it’s good to practice your telepathy until you get a handle on it, but just make sure you don’t spend too much time in your head, okay? You need to keep a balance between your Lucan side and your human side. If you spend too much time ‘being’ Lucan, doing things like reading minds and using telepathy, you could get out of whack.”

  “What happens then?”

  “Well, you could go a bit nuts, basically. You can lose touch with your humanity, and it’s even possible to lose things like social skills or, in extreme cases, the ability to speak. Given we lead pretty much human lives, you only need to keep your telepathy skills by engaging in Lucan conversations every so often.”

  “Okay, gotcha.”

  “And something you need to think about is how you’re going to manage your relationships with the non-Lucans in your life.”

  “Like Mom and Dad?”

  “And Chris.”

  Chris.

  “There are long-term questions you need to address, but at the moment, what you need to think about is how you’re going to explain this.” Dana gestures at my body. “Because, while you can cover weight loss with clothes, I can’t imagine Chris not noticing.”

  “I don’t know, he can be pretty distracted.” I half smile.

  “Tam, seriously. I mean, I assume you guys are still getting naked?” Dana raises one eyebrow. “I’ve noticed that you guys have been drifting apart.”

  I look down. “Yeah.”

  “The thing is, Tam, I love Chris, but it’s gonna be tough maintaining a relationship with him while you go through these changes.”

  “But after the full moon? After things are, uh, cemented?”

  “It will still be tricky. You’ll be hiding a massive part of your life.” Dana downs her water and refills both of our cups, casting her eyes around the basic and oddly decorated restaurant. She tilts her head to the back corner.

  “Check out the breakup in progress.”

  I study her for a moment, wondering if this is a hint, then look over her shoulder and focus on the couple in the corner. Despite their muted tones, I can hear their conversation crystal clear. When the woman says, I just don’t love you anymore, I wince on the guy’s behalf.

  “Yikes. So, I have to break up with Chris?”

  “Not necessarily. You can find a way to make it work, if you want to.”

  I focus my attention on my water. She has a point, and I’ve been thinking about it already, but I just can’t imagine life without Chris. Just then my phone beeps. It’s Chris, as if he knows his fate is being discussed, asking if we’re hanging out tonight. With a surge of guilt, I turn my phone off and turn my attention to the food that has just arrived.

  AN HOUR LATER, a cab drops us off at The Public House, a bar at the end of the shopping district in a trendy, artsy part of downtown. It’s already pretty full and a band is setting up in the corner. Despite all the people and the kind of amped vibe in here, I don’t feel overwhelmed.

  “It’s the music and the drinking,” Dana says. “It dampens your processing, but also their energy. And music at the right frequency also helps. It’s like white noise.”

  I look around. Wait, the frequency is right?

  “Dana, is this a Lucan bar?”

  “No, but the guy who owns it, not only is he Lucan, but he is Vincent,” she says like this has meaning.

  “Oh, Vincent,” I say with an eye roll, wondering whether Dana does this to her students, expects them to know things that they have no way of knowing.

  “He’s Consillium Principali,” she explains, craning her head to see through the crowd. “Head of the West Coast.”

  “When are you going to tell me what all this Consillium stuff is?” I complain, but she just pulls me across the room.

  She stops in front of a good-looking hipsterish dude and kisses him hello. For a moment, I think she has bumped into some guy she is dating, but when she pushes me forward, I realize this is Vincent. Do all Lucans greet each other that way? He’s wearing a beanie, has warm chocolatey brown eyes, and incredibly strong-looking arms covered in tattoos. And I definitely wouldn’t mind having to kiss him hello every time I saw him.

  “This is Tamzin.”

  “Yes.” He smiles, holding out his hand. I get an immediate sense of strength and warmth.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say, feeling shy.

  “Let’s go upstairs so we can talk.”

  I look at Dana for guidance, and she nods her head.

  “Are you coming too?” Even though he seems pretty chill, he has a presence, an aura about him. Underneath the warmth and the relaxed demeanor, I can sense steel.

  “I’m right behind you.”

  We follow Vincent up the stairs into a small cluttered office. He goes straight to a makeshift bar in the corner and pours three glasses of red wine. I take mine gratefully and take a nervous sip. I watch Dana over the rim of the glass as she takes hers, locking eyes with Vincent as she smiles thank you.

  “How are you, Tamzin?” He turns his eyes to me.

  “Uh, pretty good?”

  �
��First few days of being Lucan hasn’t freaked you out?”

  “Uh…” I stall, glancing at Dana.

  “She resisted a little at first.” Dana grins.

  “Dana tells me you are picking things up quickly.”

  I respond without thinking. “Yeah. It’s just kind of… instinct?”

  He nods and then looks at Dana. Something exchanges between them, but I don’t know what. I look at Dana, hoping she’ll fill me in, but she just studies her wine.

  “So, Dana brought you here to meet me because that is what we do when a new Lucan Becomes, so I can tell you a bit about the Consillium and how it all works.”

  “Good.” I nod. “Dana has been totally cryptic about it.”

  “So, technically, Consillium means Council, but I like to think of it as a Lucan community with a few leaders to show the way and a few rules to make sure everything goes smoothly.” His voice has an even cadence. Warm. Assuring. “Just like any society, there is a need for order and governance, and that is what the Consillium offers,” he explains. “It exists to serve the Consillium community and to protect us from exposure.”

  “So no one knows about us except other Lucans?”

  “There are some non-Lucan out there who do know, but it’s controlled. They are few and far between, and they need to stay that way.”

  Dana ambles across the room to flick through some Vinyl stacked on a shelf.

  “Don’t forget to tell her about Rogues.”

  “What are Rogues?”

  “Lucans who do not join the Consillium community.”

  “Are they, like, bad?”

  “Not all of them. A few Rogues just want to be left alone, to live by themselves in the woods or mountains alone, without a community.”

  “Like lone wolves!” I say. Dana clears her throat and narrows her eyes at me.

  “But most Rogues actively resist and disobey our code of conduct,” Vincent continues. “They don’t follow the rules and they cause trouble, so we have to stop them. Our edict from the original Consillium is to protect our existence and not cause harm. So, if Rogues want to be left alone, we let them, but if their actions risk exposing us...”